The Night Sanity Forgot
by ArieSemir
Summary: Revised PG13 mostly because I would hate to damage children younger than 13 with my humor. Gear up for the PreTarmon Gaidon Randland National Ball! Something within is bound to tickle your funnybone!
1. Before

Author's Note: This is a heavily revised version of a humor fic I attempted many a year ago. I hope it's a little better and that you all read and review!  
  
~*~*Before*~*~  
  
A young woman stepped slowly away from her own shadowy reflection. She turned to face it, adjusted a hair, and turned back. A slow moving, thick, black liquid seemed to follow her out from the endless depths. A whisper emanated from the viscous fluid, an almost inaudible sound that seemed to burrow in the mind and at the same time try to tear it from the body. The woman turned again, spoke a quiet few words, and turned back once more. The shapeless mass retreated back into the silvery darkness in a manner that could only be described as reluctant, like a pet dog watching its beloved master leave. Two intricately carves slabs of stone swung together, and the traveler moved a piece of the gate, which upon closer examination proved to be a trefoil leaf, to close it behind her. She picked up a satchel, dug through it, and drew out a folded sheet of ivory parchment. She read it and laughed, "To the Myddraal Fore'ize?" Believe the author when she says that it is much funnier when pronounced aloud. "Lucky Fade. You're invited to the Pre-Tarmon Gaidon Randland National Ball!"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ah, to be home. The sweltering heat, the foul, stomach-twisting breezes, the diseased and rotting foliage. He'd even written a song about it. He sang it to himself, "I been spendin' most my life livin' in the Great Lord's paradise. My special black sword don't need to strike twice, 'cos it's from the Great Lord's paradise..."   
  
He sorted through the mail and grimaced. Bills, bills, bills. They were all he ever got these days. His mother never wrote to him anymore, ever since she'd run off to pursue a career in exotic dancing. She had decided to throw her past behind her when her husband, Narg, had failed to return from the lands beyond the Waste.  
  
For the hundredth time, he wished that he had met his father; he hated his stepfather, with his closed mind and small vocabulary. All he had of his biological father was a picture.   
  
He sighed and sifted though the mail till his hand caught a thick, scalloped piece of folded parchment. "What's this? Why, it's an invitation! Ooh, I'll have to wear my prettiest outfit!" He walked to his closet and began rifling though. "No, no, no, no, NO!" He searched through his dresser. "Yes! Oh it's simply perfect!" He held up a cloak, shirt, and pair of breeches of his signature, unrelieved, light-eating shade of black seemingly no different than any other.  
  
  
  
Just then, he saw a Worm pass by. The Worms were famous for the sense of fashion and un-arguable style. The Worm saw him and groaned. It tried to slither quietly past, but alas! he had been spotted by the Myddraal. Whether the Myddraal liked other Myddraal or was just very concerned about his appearance was hard to tell. But ever since the Dragon had broken all bonds of tradition, even Shadowspawn were exploring their less orthodox tendancies.  
  
"Aw, whaddya want? I gotta scram, man. The Draghkar are sporting their new spring fashions and ya know I hafta be there." This season, slang was in. Next season, it could be the Old Tongue again. Slaves to the Waste? More like slaves to trends, were the fearsome Worms.  
  
"Oh, oh yes, of course. I just wanted to ask you, how does this look for a party?"  
  
The Worm, Ar'monee, rolled three of its eyes. Myrdraal were so uncreative. All they wore was black. It was the timeless classic of course and soooo slimming, but they took it to an extreme. "How does what look?"  
  
The Eyeless held up the specially selected outfit. "This. Isn't it just.....divine?" He sighed in ecstasy.  
  
Ar'monee glanced between the upraised garments and the ones the Fade wore. There was a difference? "Its totally...er...um. Yes, well I gotta make like a tree and leaf, ya dig? You know how those Draghkar are."  
  
The Lurk squealed in delight. Ar'monee had said... well, it wasn't the words that mattered, it was how he said them. Well, that didn't matter either; he had definitely sensed something from the Worm.  
  
Ar'monee raised an eyeridge and slithered away. There was just something... clingy about those Shadowspawn. Total squares, they just didn't groove. It brought out its program for the Spirng Fling and cheered up. Woo- hoo! Kashmere killers. Ah, it couldn't wait. He idly wondered about this party the Myrddraal had mentioned, but forgot about it again. Cashmere!  
  
The Fade returned inside. This ball would be the perfect opportunity to showcase the newest addition to his wardrobe. And perhaps they would be so impressed by his innate sense of style, they would join the Dark and get him higher in the Great Lord's standing. Things hadn't gone so well since the infamous kaf incident. He shuddered in memory. Oh that sweet, sweet caffeine.   
  
To clear his mind, he picked up the invitation and traced the flowing gold script as he read the front. "To Fore'ize, the Myrdraal. You are formally invited to the pre-Tarmon Gai'don Randland National Ball." He'd often wondered, why not Fore'izeland. His was certainly a name to inspire fear; in the Trolloc tongue it meant Terrifying, Evil, Sinister Bringer of Any Number of Painful, Screaming-for-the-mercy- that-would-never- come Deaths.  
  
He giggled in anticipation. 


	2. Entertainment

The author must note that she originally wrote this a few years ago, so some of the WoT ref's may not be up to date, like Mat and Tuon. I can never remember what happens in which book, so I'll just leave them out of date.  
  
~*~*The Entertainment*~*~  
  
Rand gazed over the assemblage and wondered what to do next. He felt a pinch on his bottom and turned around, startled. The woman we saw at the beginning grinned and winked. He groaned, and Lews Therin hummed.  
  
Mat scratched another note in his little black ledger. There were very few single females left here that he hadn't chatted up yet. He searched the room and easily found one of them. She was a young, noble-looking woman who had her head shaved and inch-long blue fingernails. Mat decided against this one. What kind of girl would /want/ to go bald?!  
  
The noble-looking woman noticed Mat shake his head. She smiled, very flattered. Obviously, his respect for her was so high that he dared not approach her, and his love was so great that he was too shy to even ponder the notion for long. She saw him go talk to another woman and figured that he had resorted to asking others about her. The fact that the only guests he spoke to were women escaped her entirely. She decided to be kind and go over and tell him that he was the one she had chosen to be the companion of her future life. "Oh Matrim, my love, I wish to speak with you...."  
  
Perrin hurried to Rand, eager to escape the one person who scared him more than his darling wife. Somewhere in the crowd, an older Saldaean woman shouted, "Wolf? Ha! You're more like a frightened puppy! Perrin Aybara! I'll teach you to go and marry my daughter! Perrin? Perrin?! Blood and bloody, flaming, goat-kissing, sheep-gutted, milk-drinking ashes!" Perrin shuddered.   
  
He watched a young woman pinch Rand and sighed. Rand just had to stand there, and girls came to him. "Geez, Rand, was this one prophecied, too?"  
  
Rand glared. "Lews Therin, shut up. I don't know who she is." He cocked his head, as if listening, and Perrin heard him whisper. "Perrin, get out my head! Burn you, you mad man!" /Perrin/ was mad??  
  
He coughed into his hand, and his cough souded suspiciously like "look who's talking."  
  
Rand glanced sharply at him. "What was that, Lews Therin?"  
  
Perrin shook his head. "Um, Rand, I think you should do something. The people smell... er, seem to be..."  
  
Rand interrupted, "Yes I must kill them, kill them all! Burn them, break them, seal the breaks, seal the breaks! Aneyli, Thgil ho!"  
  
Perrin continued, but something seemed odd. Wasn't Rand supposed to rant about breaking seals and cry out "Oh Light, Ilyena!" at random points in his dialogue? "Er, I mean, entertain them. They're getting restless and some weird guy in black keeps telling everyone that black is the timeless classic and offering free makeovers if they join the Shadow. Some are so bored that they're starting to accept. I think the crowd is about to go, ah..." he looked pointedly at Rand and twirled his forefinger around his temple.   
  
Suddenly Rand spasmed and just as suddenly recovered himself. "Yes," he said in a slightly odd voice, "I have won! Finally I shall kill Demandred, who is clearly disguised as..." Rand twitched again. "Whew, that was close," he said in his normal voice, "That mad man nearly exposed Demmy! If they knew who he was, what would the poor WoT fans do all day? No more could they work on perfecting their Taimendred or he's-not-Demandred theories. Then they'd focus of Asmo's killer and find out the truth! For the truth is out there." He barked a laugh. "It's so simple, really. But they must never know. No, never know my preciousss they mussst not know. Only we mussst know who it wassss."  
  
Perrin backed away slowly. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. Before this, at least his friend has stayed within the correct book series.  
  
He looked at the milling throng of people and saw Faile's mother and shuddered again. "Of course, Rand. I'll make sure they don't find out. Listen, we need to do something."  
  
Rand nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, Lews Therin, I'll do something." He wove saidin and his voice boomed as the room darkened and a beacon of light focused on him and Perrin. "Welcome to the pre-Tarmon Gaidon Randland National Ball!" Cheers punctuated this announcement. Finally, something was happening.   
  
Perrin muttered something about the night sanity forgot, and Rand continued. "My friend and fellow ta'veren, Lews here," he gestured toward Perrin, "told me I need to spice things up a bit. What do you all think?" More cheers followed this.   
  
Rand nodded to himself and said, "The voice in my head whom none of you believe is real has an idea. What, Perrin? He says kill them, must kill, kill all, they must die, die slowly, why can't I die..." Perrin muttered another something here about wishing he could die. "...oh Light I deserve to die, and so on. How does that sound, folks?"   
  
A few audience members clapped uncertainly for the theatrics, but most of them murmured worriedly. Perrin leaned over and whispered something to Rand.   
  
"What? Oh yes, of course. My companion and fellow Two Rivers man, Lews Therin here, thinks that I shouldn't kill you all yet. What do you think of that one?" This brought deafening cheers and applause. "Hmm, well I'm all out of ideas. What do you think?"   
  
Suggestions arose from the audience, many coarser than even Tylin could think of for a confined-to-bed-on-doctor's-orders, 'you be the Whitecloak and I'll be the naughy Novice' Mat.   
  
"Perrin had another idea."   
  
Perrin shrugged and gave up.   
  
"Why don't I let you bloodthirsty people pick a sacrificial victim? The Volcano God demands a sacrifice! If we don't appease the demon, it will destroy us all with one fell stroke!"   
  
Yes, Perrin realized that no volcanoes had ever been mentioned in Randland. Yes, he realized that the people of Randland had no demons in their mythology. No, he no longer cared.  
  
Names and more mutterings floated up from the audience. A group of black-coated men seemed to be shouting something about their M'Hael, while a tall, hook-nosed man in a fanciful coat covered in dragons tried /unsuccessfully/ to quell them. A few of these black-clad men made quiet jokes about his coat compensating for some sort of lack.  
  
Another group of women with ageless faces seemed to be shouting something about some Red Amyrlin who had brought destruction the their Tower.   
  
Rand listened attentively and spoke, "Well, I can't kill Taim or Elaida. Sorry, but it would ruin the surprise for the much anticipated Winter's Heart." He winked suggestively, but the female half audience merely groaned. Typical male with his typical innuendo. Did it never end?   
  
"And what was that Perrin? Padan Fain? Mordeth? Well, okay."  
  
A hideous screech filled the room, even more painful than that which Mat had emitted moments after we left Tuon. Perrin turned and fell to his knees weeping. "Kill them all, must break, Oh Light let me die!"  
  
Rand smiled smugly. Maybe Mat would quit asking him when he planned on going mad, now.  
  
Faile and her mother had spotted Perrin on stage and realized that he had no been by Faile's side for an entire five-minute span. Oh, he would suffer this day.  
  
Rand raised a cool eyebrow (obviously his time trapped in a box, surrounded by Aes Sedai has had lasting effects) at Perrin. "This isn't so bad. You all get to watch a grown man cry and two extremely frightening women descend on him like twin vultures!" The crowd went wild.  
  
They had been entertained. 


	3. Meetings, minglings, and manglings

Author's Note: I'm very sorry if I've offended anyone yet. I've tried to make the characterizations as inoffensive as possible without losing the original plot.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*Meetings, Minglings, and Manglings*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Fore'ize babbled on happily. "Oh, yes, then you apply the dead-white makeup. Of course, it's not black, but sometimes we must sacrifice for style, you know. No, no, no, honey, that's not at all it. The white is to /remove/ all appearance of life, not to accent it! Tsk tsk. I really don't know what to do with you Lightsworn. All this about Light.....and the Creator.....and color." He shuddered. As he raised his eyelash curler to put the final touches on his latest makeover-ee, he froze. ((Hey, just because he doesn't have eyes is no reason he can't carry all the accessories!))  
  
There, across the room was the man he had been waiting for all his life. The long white cloak, the handsome face....could it be?  
  
"DADDY!!" He flashed in and out of the shadows between them, startling quite a few Cairhienen women wearing massive hoop skirts. The things cast wonderful shadows, you see. "Lightsworn," he muttered.  
  
Mat watched him flit from skirt to skirt, fascinated. This Myrddraal's ability was.....intriguing. A definite reason to switch to the Shadow.  
  
But our belovedly (possibly alternatively-lifestyled, but we won't hold it against him if he is) comic relief failed to notice him. His Eyeless gaze was fixed on the man he'd just barely glimpsed in between a small country's population of women hanging around him. And he's ignoring them all, Fore'ize thought fondly, he's my father indeed. A tear fell from his.......wait, hold on.....this isn't right.....  
  
((author ponders))  
  
A tear fell from his..... his ahm.......erm........umm......  
  
And he......he felt a.......a.......  
  
We'll come back to this later......  
  
Back at the podium, Rand grinned. "See, Bilbo, I told you this would work. They're happy now! Look!"  
  
Perrin turned slowly toward his friend. "Bilbo? I, ah, that is......." eyeing Rand nervously, he scanned the audience. "Oh Faile, my darling duck of desire ((name that quote!)) , I would /love/ to meet your mother! Such a charming lady, if she raised a girl like you!"  
  
Rand nodded sadly, "Yes, run, Bilbo, run. It's me THEY're after, not you. It's me THEY want, and I must find THEM. For THEY hold the key to all the questions you could ever imagine, all the questions you've ever wondered. THEY know, and THEY're watching.... always watching....always....from the highest levels, THEY watch"   
  
Suddenly he ran screaming out of the room as it hit him that he /was/ the highest level. Min, Aviendha, and Elayne laughed affectionately, "Must be that good ol' taint again."  
  
((Ah! I got it! It's all so clear to me!!))  
  
Fore'ize bit his lip courageously, trying not to cry. "Oh, daddy, daddy, you found me! After all these years! The searching, the endless searching...." he sniffled. "But, daddy, if you're....you know....differently oriented--and the Shadow is very accepting of that sort of thing nowadays...how did you....ahm, ah..."  
  
The man in white stared with a catlike grace at the Myrdraal and blushed a blush to rival a thousand sunsets. "Oh, um, hello, there. Could I interest you in the Light, or, or..." he trailed off. So, that wild night in Fal Dara had finally caught up with him. He really thought she was just wearing a mask! How was he supposed to know she really /was/ a Trolloc? He had just been trying to fit in, after all.  
  
"The Light? Oh daddy, you're so funny. I see where I get my sense of humor from. And my good looks," he added slyly.  
  
A beautiful young woman with a neckline that reached nearly to her knees sighed at the... whatever it was. She perked up when she heard the voice, though. So whatever he is, he's male then. "Hey, good-looking, I love you so much that I would cut off every limb of my body, put them through a shredder, eat them, regurgitate them, eat them again, then digest them, then eat them again, then regurgitate them and wrap them up for a present and give them to you for our 1 week anniversary just because I love you sooooooo much!!!!!"  
  
((okay, so i got that one from ecrush.com. They stalk me.))  
  
The Fade backed away slowly. "I, um, er..."  
  
Berelain pouted, slightly misunderstanding the situation. Another one?! She had never before had to compete /with/ a guy /for/ a guy. Could this be some new fad? Or could it be that she was simply getting ugly? Were men finally seeing through her irresistable exterior to her cold, power-hungry, loveless interior?? She nearly burst into tears as she ran from the two. "Faile, oh, Faile, is that your mother I see with you? Oh, I simply must meet her if she's anything like you."  
  
The Whitecloak sniffed and twitched his cloak. "Well, that was rude. So... you're the Trolloc's son. You know, I can't see much of her in you, or really much of me. Are you sure that...?" he cut off with a fluidity almost too pretty for a man.  
  
"Oh yes, yes, definintely. Mother gave me this locket before she left." Taking a black metal chain from around his neck, he opened the tiny locket shaped like a heart. Not the happy sweet kind. An actual heart. "It's obviously you. See?"   
  
The man squinted with a motion that would've gotten him Bonded at any other moment and nodded, "That is indeed my likeness. Then I suppose you really are my.....my, uh, my son."  
  
Foariez nodded excitedly, "Oh yes, yes, I am. For sure, I am." Casting a searching..... um....gaze around the room, he giggled. "Oooh, daddy, how about some friendly competition? See that sexy man over there? We will see who gets to take him to the Pit tonight, if you know what I mean,"  
  
Spying the older man with the tilted eyes and mustache, the Whitecloack nodded. "Deal," he said as he grinned wickedly. "Let's go." He had never dreamed that he would find someone who understood him the way this Myddraal did or that he would ever find fatherhood so rewarding. The moral delicacies usually involved when one fathers a Shadowspawn would have to be pondered another day.  
  
Sure enough, three minutes later, a Saldeaen man ran screaming through the crowd. "Faile, dear, I think we need to catch up on our quality time together. Oh yes, and you too, darling wife. Some real quality time. Some LONG quality time." Sparing a glance back at the two frowning back at him, the man shuddered. He had truly never thought that Galad swung that way. And as for the Shadowspawn.....he had guarded the Blight for many years, and nothing had been as terrifying as that Fade's offer. He wasn't quite sure what "going to the Pit" meant, but, like with Juilin's figs and mice, that didn't matter. He was terrified and knew this would result in devastating emotional trauma. No sleeping without a nightlight for years.  
  
Meanwhile, Faile and her mother where the happiest that they had ever been. They jumped and shrieked and giggled and hugged each other. "Ooh, we're so popular! They like us. They really like us!" 


	4. The final straw

~*~*~*~*~The Final Straw~*~*~*~*~  
  
Fore'ize burst into... buried his head in his head and sobbed. "He hated me, daddy!! He hated me! He said I was scary and ugly and..." He lifted his head, "Daddy??"  
  
"Son, help me!" he screamed, as a crowd of Greens dragged him away, tearing his clothes off as if he were some sort of teen pop idol. Hundreds of weaves of saidar competing with each other as each tried to capture him for her own and use him as her 'victim' in elaborate S&M rituals.....er.....Bond him.  
  
"Daddy! Nooo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!" His voice broke. "The only man who ever loved me, and it was a strictly platonic kind of love!"  
  
"So, they all abandoned you too," a voice said from behind him.  
  
"Yes, yes, the only man who accepted me for what I really was! And he's gone with those women! And they will Bond him, and he will love them!"  
  
"Greens got another one, eh? I know how he feels." the voice said resignedly.  
  
The Myrddraal turned around, "Who...who are you, mister? Will you be my one true and eternal love that trancends all time and space?"  
  
The tall redhead snorted, "Ah, no. I got three gizirl's prophecied for me, man, one Forsizaken, who makes them look like back-alley girls, who wants my body and some mysterious travizellin chick who likes my luscious bizum. Ain't no way I'm givin that all up, dizude. But bro, I totally dig you. They just don't understand, do they? Well I hate them all! I hate them all and I'm never comin hizome!" he sulked angrily.   
  
Fore'ize wondered if this freakish habit adding of 'iz' in the middle of words was some sort of speech impediment affecting the Lightsworn or simply a new trend he hadn't heard of yet. Who ever understood Lightsworn anyway?  
  
"I know, I know! No one knows how I feel! They all think I'm some kind of freak! All I want is a little lovin' for a sickly night in the Blight. But they all run and shriek at me, and point and laugh at me." Suddenly, a tear appeared out of his forehead and tracked down his fishbelly face. "I could be as faithful as anyone else to the one I loved, but everyone assumes that I have loose morals, so no one takes me seriously. Just because I love others like me does not mean that my love is any less valid!"  
  
Rand was too far into his madness to appreciate this rare bout of solemnity from the Fade. And if he had noticed, he probably would have balefired the author for moralizing in the middle of a bad humor fic, anyway.  
  
"Dizude, I got ya. Its like my home-dizawg in my head, Mizulder, told me. Ya just gotta waste 'em all, ya knizow? Just waste the trippin' sons of (beep)s. Just beep-in beep beep beep the beep-in beeps. Cizatch ma drift?" Rand was drifting deeper and deeper into incomprehensibility.  
  
"Actually not, really. Um, what do you mean by 'beepin beep beep' anyway?"  
  
"Aw mizan, ya gotta get wizid it! Ya dig? Ya dig?"  
  
Nervously, Fore'ize laughed, "Uh, yes, yes, I dig." He wondered why he was supposed to be delving into the ground. "So, what's your name?"  
  
"I'm Spizecial Agent Fizox Mulder with the FBI....no, bizeepitty beep beep you, I'm nizot! Why? Why?! Dude, just get outta my hizead, man! I'm Rand al'Thor, the something re-somethinged. I forgot. It's the taint, ya know?"  
  
"Oh, the Dragon. You know, I've heard that quite a few of you Lightsworn are addicted to that taint. We Shadowspawn never get any of the good stuff."  
  
"What? Aw, naw, you got the Trizue Source. Still man, tizaint is some beep, ya know? Tizop quality. I could hizook ya up, ya know. I gizot connections, I got gizuys, ya know?"  
  
And so, the Dragon Reborn and a servant of the Dark left, joined in spiz...spirit by their respective ranks as an outcasts from society. With that, the host of the whole damn thing and the comic relief left. Yeah, they just left my story. Ungrateful wretches! Now I have nothing to write about besides the tired cliches of a browbeaten Perrin and lascivious Mat.   
  
I guess I'll leave the rest up to your imaginations.   
  
Oh and now the Dark One's gonna sue me for copyright infringement. Great. 


End file.
